Sunday, February 20, 2011

Voluntary Association

The greatest honor I can think of us
Is for one person to change themselves
in response to the behavior or another.

Creature of Habit

Without consistency there would be no surprise.

The importance of consistency in how the mind works is too often undervalued. Consistency establishes pattern, which allows us the power of prediction. Without prediction there is no trust, and upon trust society was weaned from the family.

Friday, February 18, 2011

I no longer wonder why

What a strange little life I lead;
driving in a lonely bubble to and from work,
scratching around in a little cube all day,
looking out windows and over half walls.
Wondering why.
 
I no longer wonder why so few people care
about the abuse of chickens kept in tiny cages.
Most people don't feel much better off.
Most people wonder who will care about them,
and who will trouble themselves
about their little freedoms

Sunday, February 06, 2011

Out of Band or Off the Map?

Consciousness exists in a band of circumstantial precision.  We can reach outside this band with theory and praxis, but we can not live there.  The atom will never be as real as this wooden table, as this plastic keyboard.    Our genetic ancestors will never have the presence that our children do, and so will naturally possess an element of fantasy, not quite real, distant and difficult to resolve.  We find ourselves squinting at these concepts, these realities outside of our perception.

All men, for all time, have lived their lives within this perceptual band.  They may have had a narrower band, but none larger.  Different men have different perceptual capacities and so will have different bands.  The human consciousness is bounded by our perceptual capabilities, in this we are all equal.  These boundaries differ but the standard deviation is incredibly small.  Greater deviation is to be found in the way this space is occupied.  Imagine our perceptual band is a long sheet of brilliantly white butchers paper.  Each tiny step of thought, each pixel of knowledge and conception, all that could be said to happen within our minds, all that could be called a component of consciousness, all these things leave small inky black wet prints.  There are darker spots in the center, venturing out, covering the paper.  Areas of thick tracking look likes mountains or lines of terrain.  Stand back a few feet and it appears a map, constantly being redrawn but at a level of detail that you can no longer perceive.  Stand further back, it can seem static at this distance, but you know it teams, you must but step a bit closer, now closer still.

Friday, February 04, 2011

The Dude Abides

That man is at leisure who actually perceives the leisure he has.
Seneca, Dialogues and Essays
On the Shortness of Life, Part 12